


The Way We Fight (Make Me Feel Like We Just in Love)

by littleboat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Miya Atsumu, Jealous Sakusa Kiyoomi, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Side Miya Atsumu/Yaku Morisuke, Side Ojiro Aran/Bokuto Koutarou, Side Sakusa Kiyoomi/Kuroo Tetsurou, Side Suna Rintarou/Komori Motoya, all my barbie dolls get to kiss idc, did i just want an excuse to write atsumu and yaku? maybe, hello pls join me in rare pair hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboat/pseuds/littleboat
Summary: As with most things that seem to be going wrong in Atsumu’s life recently, this too involves Olympic Libero Yaku Morisuke.Or more specifically, his hotel room.Or, to be the most specific, his hotel room, which Atsumu stumbles out of.It wouldn’t actually be a problem, except that at the same moment he steps out of Yaku’s room, he sees Sakusa step out of Kuroo’s room.or  Atsumu and Sakusa just need to get it together long enough to tell each other how they really feel
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 218





	The Way We Fight (Make Me Feel Like We Just in Love)

**Author's Note:**

> this is both titled after and based off of 'boyfriend' by ariana grande and social house

**I. i am a motherfuckin’ trainwreck**

As with most things that seem to be going wrong in Atsumu’s life recently, this too involves Olympic Libero Yaku Morisuke. 

Or more specifically, his hotel room. 

Or, to be the most specific, his hotel room, which Atsumu stumbles out of. 

They both had to get the crushing defeat, handed to them on a silver platter by Argentina and Oikawa Tooru, out of their system. 

At least, that’s what Atsumu’s telling himself. 

It wouldn’t actually be a problem, except that at the same moment he steps out of Yaku’s room, he sees Sakusa step out of Kuroo’s room. 

They freeze, staring each other down. 

Atsumu knows what he must look like. Yaku isn’t exactly gentle in bed. He hasn’t gotten a chance to survey the damage yet, but he felt Yaku leave scratches all over his back, and suck hickeys into his collarbone like they were in fucking high school.

Sakusa doesn’t look too much better. His hair, usually effortlessly swoopy and dreamy, is sticking up in every direction, making Sakusa resemble the man he spent the night with a little too closely for Atsumu’s taste. 

Sakusa glares at him, then turns with a sniff and marches towards his own bedroom. 

**II. you ain’t my boyfriend, but i don’t want you to see nobody else**

Looking into the mirror before showering is a blow to the ego Atsumu definitely didn’t need. 

He looks worse than shit. 

His hair looks worse than Sakusa’s did, and the bags under his eyes have bags of their own. 

The hot water helps. So does pulling on his softest sweats. All would be right if he could just find his favorite hoodie. 

Clothes go flying as he tears his suitcase up looking for it. He’s about to check behind the standard hotel model tv for the third time when he remembers where exactly his hoodie is. 

He swallows his pride like the Olympic athlete he’s supposed to be and pats his pockets for his keycard and phone before he slips out of the door and walks the few yards separating his room from Sakusa’s. 

Waiting for Sakusa to answer the door takes years off his life. 

But it’s worth it for the sight he sees. For a split second, Sakusa’s eyes are soft, his cheeks pink from the shower, damp curls falling elegantly back into his face, all traces of last night seemingly gone.

Then, he registers that it’s Atsumu at his door and his eyes harden. 

“What do you want?” 

He can’t tell what hurts his ego more this morning, his own face in the mirror or the sheer indifference with which Sakusa regards him. 

“My hoodie,” he says. And then, when Sakusa doesn’t move, he adds. “Please.”

Sakusa steps aside and wordlessly lets him in. It’s more than Atsumu’s expecting, if he’s being honest. 

He takes a seat on the edge of Sakusa’s bed and watches him search around the room for the hoodie in question. 

Atsumu _knows_ he shouldn’t, but Sakusa is a button he has never not pushed. “So, how was sex with the sleazy conman?” 

Sakusa snaps up from where’s bent over his suitcase.

“Oh _fuck off_ , Miya. Like I didn’t see you walk out of Yaku’s room.” 

“Well, it’s not like I could’ve spent it in yours,” his throat feels tight, the back of his eyes hot. Instead of giving Sakusa vulnerability though, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Just gimme my fucking hoodie back.” 

A bundle of black fabric lands in his face. “You got some fuckin’ nerve. Fucking other people and then huffing into my room like a child.” 

“You’re fucking other people too,” Atsumu bursts, throwing his hands up. “What am I supposed to do, wait in my room clutching my pearls until you decide to come around?” 

“Get the fuck out.”

“Omi-omi, come on, I didn’t meant that—”

“Out,” Sakusa snaps, and it’s the closest Atsumu has heard him come to yelling in a while. 

**III. when push comes to shove, i’m a trainwreck too**

Because he’s an idiot, or a masochist, or both, he’s back to the source of his problems: Yaku. 

This time, they’re eating, full continental breakfast between them. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just suck it up and tell him already,” Yaku says, slathering jam into a croissant. 

“I can’t just _tell_ him,” Atsumu sighs, staring dejectedly at the omelette in his plate. It’s a fine looking omelette too. He just doesn’t have the stomach for anything at the moment. 

“I don’t see why not,” Yaku says around a bite of croissant. 

Atsumu furrows his brow at him, but he’s not sure if it’s because he actually finds it gross or if it’s because he knows Sakusa would find it gross. 

“We’d be the worst couple ever.” He takes a sip of the espresso the handsome man at the cafe made for him and wrinkles his nose, because the man definitely looked better than the coffee tastes. “All we would do is fight.”

Yaku points his butter knife at Atsumu. “All you already do is fight. At least you’d be fighting exclusively.”

“Okay, well, it’s not like you and the capitalist are dating. He was fucking Sakusa last night.”

“And?” Yaku snorts, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Atsumu. “Kuroo and I live in different countries. It wouldn’t exactly be easy for us.” 

“I wish we could all be like Bokuto and Aran,” Atsumu groans, slumping forward in his seat. 

Yaku stabs his knife into the fancy carved stick of butter. “They’re so happy and married it disgusts me.” 

Atsumu sighs, blowing hair out of his face. “I wanna be happy and married.”

“Which you could be, if you could just get your head out of your ass and tell Sakusa you want to be exclusive,” Yaku tells him, flicking Atsumu in the forehead. 

**IV. i know we’d be so complicated,** **lovin' you sometime drive me crazy**

After breakfast, Suna and Komori combine their evil powers and carole the team to go sightseeing.

“We’ve all already seen Tokyo,” Hoshiumi whines. 

“Atsumu’s a country bumpkin,” Suna says, from the front of the pack, fingers intertwined with Komori’s. “He hasn’t seen shit.”

“Yer literally also from Hyogo,” Atsumu gripes, caught in the middle of the pack with Ushiwaka on one side and Kageyama and Hinata on the other. They’re also holding hands and looking at each other all lovey dovey and it’s stupid. _They’re_ stupid. 

“Yeah well I was born in Tokyo,” Suna says, flipping Atsumu off. 

They allow themselves to be shuffled along from sight to sight, until they end up in one of those tacky tourist trap gift shops. 

Atsumu picks up an “I <3 Tokyo” shirt and holds it out to Suna. Before he can say anything, Sakusa passes by and says, “Gonna buy that for Yaku to remember you by?” 

Rather than coming to his rescue like a good teammate, Suna just purses his lips and walks back to Komori. 

“Why do you have to turn everything into a fight?” 

“You’re the one who started it this morning when you opened that big mouth of yours,” Sakusa hisses. 

“Yeah, well maybe we’d be past it if _you_ could close that big mouth of yours. Oh I forgot, ‘you can’t leave things unfinished,’” Atsumu mocks. 

“Listen, Miya,” Sakusa stalks closer to him, pointing a finger at his chest. “Just because you can never say what you actually mean—”

“Oh, _I’m_ the one who can’t say what I actually mean? Do you even hear yourself?” Atsumu’s aware that his voice is rising in volume, aware that this is neither the time nor the place. “ _You’re_ the one starting a fight in the middle of fucking gift shop.”

Before Sakusa can respond, Komori walks over, Suna trailing behind him, and slings an arm around Sakusa’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says, way too bright, even for him. “Let’s go make fun of the tourists.”

He pulls Sakusa towards a group of Americans squabbling with the store owner over the price of keychains. 

Suna wraps a pinky around one of Atsumu’s. The anger in his chest simmers until it peters out into nothing. 

**V. I wanna kiss you, don’t wanna miss you**

It all comes to a head that evening, at an afterparty ever so graciously hosted by team Argentina. None of them want to go, except Hinata, who misses Oikawa, and Kageyama, who will likely stand in a corner stewing while he watches Hinata and Oikawa dance all over each other. 

Iwaizumi implores them all to go, because “ _He’s my fiancé guys, please_.” 

And Iwaizumi has the triple threat of being nice, having thick biceps, and caring about all of them individually. So they put on their best outfits and trudge over to the corner of the hotel that Argentina has reserved for this party. 

At least it's open bar. 

Atsumu nurses the same drink all night, unlike Yaku, who downs shots with the Russian team, and Komori, who downs shots with literally anyone who will do them with him. 

Stupid liberos and their stupid livers of steel.

Aran and Bokuto only have eyes for each other, and it’s sickening just how in love they are.

Even Kageyama is having a good time. Oikawa and Hinata have roped him into dancing with them, and now they’re all grinding against each other. 

That’s when he spots Sakusa, sitting on the other side of the room, nursing a drink, looking as dejected as Atsumu feels. 

The sight of him makes Atsumu’s decision for him. He pushes his drink aside and walks over to Sakusa.

“Wanna dance?” 

Sakusa glares at him. “Absolutely not.” 

“Come on, Omi-omi,” he whines in his best pay-attention-to-me-Omi voice. 

Sakusa must be having a truly shit night, because that’s all it takes for him to push his own drink aside and let Atsumu lead him to the dance floor. 

The song pumping through the speakers is loud, the kind that Atsumu feels in his chest more than hears with his ears. Despite that, he wraps his arms around Sakusa’s waist and pulls him into his chest, rocking him back and forth.

He feels Sakusa’s sigh against his neck. A few moments later, he feels Sakusa’s arms around his shoulders. 

One song blends into the next and Atsumu finally works up the nerve to speak. “Omi,” he says into the curve of his ear, because it’s hard to hear anything over the thrum of the music. “I wanna be your boyfriend.”

Sakusa stills in his arms, then pulls back to look at him. Atsumu wishes he would’ve kept his stupid mouth shut, because even though whatever they have is sad and dysfunctional, at least it’s something. 

But then, Sakusa leans in and says, “We wouldn’t work. All we’d do is fight.” And Atsumu feels hope bloom in his heart.

“That’s what I told Yaku,” He says, and smiles a little when Sakusa frowns at the mention of Yaku’s name. 

“And we’d never be able to compromise.” Sakusa’s staring at his feet now. 

“If it’s important to you, I’d be willing to try.”

Sakusa looks up at him with eyes so full of emotion it lodges Atsumu’s heart in his throat. He’s never looked at Atsumu like this before. 

“I don’t wanna see anybody else but you, Omi. If you feel the same way, I really wanna try.” 

Despite the noise of the room, it feels like everything around them goes silent when Sakusa says, “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

**VI. if you were my boyfriend, i wouldn't see nobody else**

As with most things that seem to be going right in Atsumu’s life recently, this too involves Olympic Libero Yaku Morisuke. 

Or more specifically, his hotel room. 

Or, to be the most specific, his hotel room, which Atsumu does not stumble out of. Because this time, he comes out of Sakusa’s room, donning his favorite of Sakusa’s hoodies, while Sakusa sleeps in his. 

He looks across the hall and sees Kuroo stepping out of Yaku’s bedroom, hair more disheveled than he would have thought possible. 

Kuroo grins at him like the Cheshire Cat. “Seems like I’m not the only one who’s having a good morning.”

Atsumu snorts and heads for his own room. 

At breakfast, he sits next to Sakusa, who frowns at Yaku, while Yaku sits next to Kuroo, who’s nothing but smiles. 

“Took your advice,” Atsumu says.

Yaku turns to Sakusa and grins. “You’re welcome.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> hello yes i am in rarepair hell thank you for asking :) bokuto and aran are married you can't change my mind
> 
> as always, thank you so much to [stefansgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefansgirl) for being my beta reader :>
> 
> come say hi on [twt](https://twitter.com/littleboatau)!


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